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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143483">Through Your Teeth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FigWantsDie/pseuds/FigWantsDie'>FigWantsDie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>All the other characters are just mentions sorry, Awkward Boners, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Hypothermia, M/M, Mainly angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, The Voices, a snowstorm, edward the enderman, oh no, whatever will i do???</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:01:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,413</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143483</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FigWantsDie/pseuds/FigWantsDie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil wasn’t in his house. It was empty; wooden floorboards creaking, water splashing against rocks. It felt familiar, like a distant memory, a dream he couldn’t place. Cool water and an unlit fire. Dark besides the moonlight streaming in through the windows, softly illuminating his face. He was alone. He should leave a note, but what would he write? There was really nothing to say.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis | Quackity &amp; Dave | Technoblade, Alexis | Quackity/Dave | Technoblade, Alexis | Quackity/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>627</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Death and Abduction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know this chapter is bad I promise it'll pick up I just wanted to essentially root it in canon with the interaction they had in the final control room tm tm tm.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Technoblade rummaged through the chest, shoving everything into his pockets. He hastily put on the iron armor, shaky from the adrenaline of surviving death. He could hear people outside the cave, separated from him by a thin cobblestone wall. His horse, Carl, stood by nervously — aware of the anxiety filling the air but unable to flee in the tiny room. Technoblade looked around for an escape and realized the horse wouldn't be able to fit through the tiny tunnel that would presumably take him to safety. He frantically mined the stone around him to widen the passage with the pickaxe he took from the chest. From Dream's chest. Why had he done this? Why did he decide to save Techno's life? He had heard about what Dream had done to Tommy, keeping his brother isolated from his friends and convincing him that he was alone, not because of the circumstances but because of his own unlikability. Why would Dream decide his life was worth risking everything while driving Tommy to suicide? What had Tommy done again? Destroyed a house? Dream had helped Techno destroy an entire country just a month prior. He could understand his exile, he had destroyed everything after all, but-</p><p>"What the fuck is this Techno?" He turned to the voice and quickly blocked off his horse. It was Quackity, in full netherite. His heart skipped a beat. "What the hell are you doing here?"</p><p>He was angry. Not the raging, tears in your eyes kind of angry, but the dry calculating kind of angry. It terrified him.</p><p>Though it didn't appear so outwardly, Technoblade's inner monologue was a constant stream of panic and overthinking. He wanted to run, or hide, or cower but his body stayed still, unmoving. The voices demanded blood. </p><p>"How the FUCK- how the hell did that anvil not kill you?" Quackity still stood in the entrance, staring him down. Techno would be intimidated if he hadn't already made up his mind about killing him. He laughed.</p><p>"Did you really think, Quackity, that you could kill me that easily?"</p><p>"How did you do it?" </p><p>"Do you think death can stop me? You know what, I've got a lot to say. I was gonna say it at the trial but we got a little bit interrupted, Quackity. You know I tried convincing you guys that government was not the answer — that government was actually the cause of all your problems. I tried to convince you by fighting along side you as brothers, and you cast me aside, you <em>used </em>me, I tried to use force, but you still formed a government, and when I went into hiding, when I retired, when I swore off violence, you hunted me down. You hurt my friends." The english major in him laughed at the parallel between himself and Tommy, both cast aside by society for their destruction, both severing all relationships. But his story would not end in depression and loneliness. He would dismantle the government brick by brick. Unlike Tommy, he would emerge victorious. </p><p>"You don't understand, Techno, you don't understand what we're trying to build here, Techno." </p><p>"You're trying to build your own power."</p><p>"This is not a simple anarchy thing, Techno, that's what you don't understand, alright? Techno do you really think I give a shit about the withers? No. No. You are on the hit list Techno. You are on the fucking hit list. I am building a country. What we have out there is a country, and what we need is organization and power. And I don't care how long it fucking takes me or what I have to do to get you techno, I'm going to fucking kill you. I'm going to kill you Technoblade."</p><p>"I just have one question Quackity: do you think <em>you're</em> enough to kill me? Even unarmed? Do you really think you can take me?" He grinned. He knew the taunts would be enough to spark a fight, enough to push Quackity over the edge into a blind rage. Enough to give him the blood every fibre in his body craved. </p><p>"You know what? Let's fucking find out." </p><p>Quackity charged and Technoblade made a tactical retreat, splashing himself with a multitude of potions. He searched for a weapon and realized he only had the pickaxe. It should work, pointed on one end, sharp enough to rip through muscle and heavy enough to crack bone.</p><p>"I have a pickaxe and I'll put it through your teeth!"</p><p>Quackity made the first move, slashing at him with an axe. Technoblade artfully dodged his blows, the ones that did land bouncing off his armor. Technoblade was good at this. He had been training for years, learning the art of war and mastering PVP. He glided through the air, hair flowing behind him with each of his smooth blows.</p><p>"You have done so much fucking damage to everything we've been building all-a-fucking-long Techno." Quackity was looking a little rougher, scrapes and torn flesh brought about by the pickaxe. "If there's one PVP I'm planning to win its this one baby. So let's fucking go." Technoblade smirked. Despite his passion and bravado Quackity could not keep up. Technoblade managed to remain graceful, moving the pickaxe in clean arcs, leaping out of the way of Quackity's wild swinging. He could see the frustration growing, the hot lava bubbling under the surface. Quackity was going to explode. He almost felt bad for him, the guy clearly wanted his revenge, but he wouldn't allow himself to feel pity. He needed to win this fight. He needed to kill Quackity. He needed blood.</p><p>Quackity was knocked to the floor with a clean blow. Technoblade looked down at him. Quackity's eyes were wide, he looked terrified. His mouth was slightly open, mind unable to find last words. He looked so vulnerable like this.</p><p>Looking up at Technoblade, a wave of acceptance washed over Quackity. He knew he was going to die. He knew that when he did, it would only be a minor setback. He could come back another time, when Techno was weaker, less prepared, and kill him then. Still, it was hard not to be intimidated by the pig man towering over him. He was almost a foot taller than him when they were standing, but from the floor he looked massive. He looked hyper-focused, like he had tunnel vision. His pupils were narrow, almost to the size of pinpoints. He looked crazed. He looked hungry. </p><p>&lt;Quackity was slain by Technoblade&gt;</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Breakdowns and Familiar Sounds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Technoblade POV</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay this might be confusing but i put this chapter in before what was originally chapter 2 and then edited some parts of chapter 2.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He returned to L’Manberg the next night.</p><p>He understood the importance of what had happened — that they had tried executing him, that he was a wanted man, that he was banished from the country. He understood that he had survived because of the luck of his circumstances and the bizarre assistance from Dream. But he still didn’t feel afraid. Sure, he was nervous — he didn’t <em> want </em> to get caught — but if he did, what could they do? The four of them couldn’t kill him when he was in a cell, and they didn’t have Carl as leverage anymore. Plus, he wanted to see Phil. He took the cautious route, splashing himself with invisibility potions and taking off his armor, creeping around and avoiding everyone he came across.</p><p>
  <em> Technolame </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You forgot to take your armor off! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD </em>
</p><p>He crouched behind a building and checked to make sure the armor was off. It was. The voices’ warnings and worries were almost always false, but they were right often enough that he still felt compelled to listen. There were so many of them now that he could barely make out what they were saying anymore, anything helpful being drowned out by an endless cacophony, a sea of voices shouting over each other. Sometimes they would band together and begin a chant, drowning out his thoughts with a singular need, but it was rare. </p><p>
  <em> You should eat </em>
</p><p>
  <em> lmaoooooo </em>
</p><p>
  <em> E </em>
</p><p>He wasn’t hungry. They were in a good mood today, not demanding as much blood and violence as usual. Their hunger had been quenched yesterday with Quackity, but their satiety was always short lived. Blood was a constant, gnawing need — animalistic, uncontrollable. He had never made it far enough to find out what happened when he was deprived of it, always breaking, succumbing to the will of the voices. </p><p>
  <em> E </em>
</p><p>
  <em> E </em>
</p><p>
  <em> E </em>
</p><p>Jesus Christ not this again. At least it was one sound, less confusing. He could tune it out for the most part. He still had to make it to L’Manberg. He froze. Quackity was shuffling down the path, eyes glazed over. He was so out of it, so unlike his usual animated self. He looked hollow.</p><p>
  <em> BIG Q </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Technosneak </em>
</p><p>
  <em> E </em>
</p><p>He could probably sneak around him. He was invisible after all, as long as he was careful not to touch anything or kick up any dirt, he should be fine. He crept to the right, careful not to make too much noise. </p><p>“FUCK” </p><p>
  <em> What’s going on? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> E </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cover blown </em>
</p><p>Technoblade slowly turned to look at Quackity, careful not to make a sound. He had sat down on the floor, covering his head with his arms, like he was trying to shield himself from something that wasn’t there. He was shaking, sobbing silently.</p><p>
  <em> F </em>
</p><p>
  <em> BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Awwwww :( </em>
</p><p>Quackity had fully curled in on himself, becoming as small as possible. He wanted to give him privacy — he wasn’t supposed to see this — but he felt like he had to do something. Would it be better to leave the man to his breakdown? Surely he wouldn’t want to see Technoblade right now. He guessed the events of the night before had in some way caused this distress. He stood there helplessly as Quackity began screaming into his knees.</p><p>
  <em> Is this a bit? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Quackity support &lt;3 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Poor boy </em>
</p><p>What could he do that wouldn’t upset him further? He should just move on, continue to Phil’s house. This was private. This wasn’t for him. He continued walking, careful not to be too noticeable. He heard Quackity murmuring to himself, words muffled. Curiosity got the better of him and he strained to make out what words were being said.</p><p>“Why couldn’t I kill him?” So this <em> was </em> about him. Great.</p><p>
  <em> LLLLLLLL </em>
</p><p>
  <em> L </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Guys stop he seems upset </em>
</p><p>Why <em> was </em> he so upset? No one could kill him. That was his whole schtick: Technoblade never dies. Why would failing to do something everyone else had tried and failed to do make him spiral into a meltdown? There had to be something else going on, but it wasn’t his place to stick around and find out. Maybe fear was good in this instance. Maybe it was best if Quackity saw him as a god, untouchable and inscrutable. He kept walking to Phil’s house. </p><p>
  <em> PHIL </em>
</p><p>
  <em> POGGGG </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bye Quackity :,(</em>
</p><p>The last time he talked to Phil was at his execution, when he stood on his balcony and watched, unable to come out because of the confines of his house arrest. He wondered what that had been like, being forced to stand by while your eldest son nearly died. Was he afraid, when it happened? Or had he known he would survive? Phil had seen him at his worst, at his weakest. He didn’t have this image of Technoblade, the immortal immoral anarchist. What did he think of him? When he thought of his son, how did he feel?</p><p>
  <em> Potion’s wearing off </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Where’s Phil? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> E </em>
</p><p>Phil wasn’t in his house. It was empty; wooden floorboards creaking, water splashing against rocks. It felt familiar, like a distant memory, a dream he couldn’t place. Cool water and an unlit fire. Dark besides the moonlight streaming in through the windows, softly illuminating his face. He was alone. He should leave a note, but what would he write? There was really nothing to say. </p><p>
  <em> Phil? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You aren’t invisible anymore! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> POTION </em>
</p><p>He drank another invisibility potion. He wanted to go down to the water, to swim under the moon. The water moved slowly, lapping the sides of the stilted city. There were no waves, just movements caused by the wind. He took his shoes off and dipped his toes in. It was chilly. It reminded him of home. He wanted to dive in, to let it surround him. To float mindlessly and look up at the stars. He wanted Phil to be there, looking up at the stars with him. Laughing, talking easily like only they did. </p><p>
  <em> Do a flip </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Find Phil </em>
</p><p>
  <em> E </em>
</p><p>Why did he think Phil needed him to rescue him? He was capable. He could take off an ankle monitor. Of course Phil was fine. Why would he wait around for Techno to come and save him? He was his father, not a damsel in distress. He didn’t need Techno. He should leave. There was nothing for him here. </p><p>
  <em> Technosad </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Is Carl safe? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Talk to Quackity </em>
</p><p>He shoved his feet back in his boots. It was time to go home. There was no point to this excursion. What an awful waste of time. Would Quackity still be there? God he hoped not. He looked so broken. How could he be so fragile? He was a glass bauble in an endless abyss of harsh angles and crushing forces. The world was cruel, it trapped them in a loop, reanimating them everytime they died, giving them a new start. How many times had Quackity died? How many times had his flesh been torn apart and pieced back together? Had he become numb to it? Did he no longer notice the too tight skin, learning how to stretch with the movements of a body again, and the vibrations of shifting bones? Or did he feel every excruciating second of it?</p><p>
  <em> E </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You missed diamonds </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Technosupport </em>
</p><p>He wasn’t on the path. There was no sign that he had ever been there. The world was empty again, just him and his thoughts. He really should get home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'll try to put chapter 4 out soon but I got a lot of shit going on right now so no promises unfortunately :-/. Oh yeah The chat thing! So I wanted like a clash between technos like very visual, poetic self questioning inner monologue (Which I wrote in the third person? idk either) and the voices just like making noises and pogging and shit lmao I thought it was funny but lemme know if its awkward to read I know it doesn't flow as well.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Snow Drifts and Graveyard Shifts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Quackity POV.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was freezing outside. The snow came down in flurries, sticking to Quackity's eyelashes. His nose burned. He trudged through the snow anyways, determined to reach Techno's house. He had spent next to no time planning this, deciding nearly on a whim that he would try to kill the pig in his sleep. He had set out at sunset, telling no one where he was headed. He opted for a blade, sharp enough to slit a throat without much struggle, instead of the axe. It would take too many swings, too much effort. He wouldn't sleep through the whole thing. And Quackity knew he couldn't win another fight.</p><p>He hadn't slept much since he died. It was his second time dying at Technoblade's hands and he had had enough. He couldn't beat him with the entirety of the revolution behind him, and he couldn't beat him with an army he had raised and trained to fight Technoblade alone. He could feel exhaustion in his bones. Technoblade haunted him. </p><p>He could see the turtle farm ahead of him. The turtles were barely protected from the falling snow, swimming around in water just above the freezing point. They looked miserable. He would free them, but where would they go? If they left the tiny shelter they would only be able to wander around the snowy tundra until they died of hypothermia. He would leave them for now. </p><p>The steady stream of smoke in the distance acted as a beacon, leading him to Techno’s home. He needed to be sneaky. Even though it was the middle of the night, he couldn’t be sure if Techno was actually sleeping or not. If he wasn’t, Quackity would have to wait out until he did. It was going to be a long night.</p><p>The house looked warm from here. A single point of light in a barren, icy landscape. Although he knew what was waiting for him inside, Quackity still thought it looked comforting. Now to get inside without making a sound.</p><p>He peered through the windows, but the wooden slatting obstructed his view. It looked like the lights were off though, a good sign. He didn’t hear anything inside besides the crackling of the fireplace. He slowly opened the basement door, creaking as it went. The storage room was full of villagers, all of which turned to face him. He held a finger to his lips, hoping they would get the message and keep quiet. What kind of person kept villagers in boats in their basement? He could hear the soft mooing of a cow below him. He decided to scale the ladder and peeked his head through the main floor. An enderman stood in a corner, facing away from him. He would have to be careful to avert his gaze. The rest of the room was empty.</p><p>The ladder creaked with each of his movements. He hoped Technoblade was a deep sleeper. He must be if he kept so many mobs this close to his bed. He could see a vague shape under the covers. He waited for a minute, checking to see if there were any sounds or movements. Only deep breathing and a crackling fireplace. All clear.</p><p>He moved to stand over the bed. There he was. The man that killed him twice. Sleeping soundly in silk pajamas, lightly snoring. What kind of asshole wore silk pajamas? He really took this faux royalty thing too far. Quackity drew his blade. It was now or never. He stepped closer. He looked peaceful like this. All the regular tension and stress gone. He had never seen him like this before, jaw slack, eyelashes lightly fluttering. It was hard to believe that this man, this man that was snuggled up under his blankets, defenseless, had killed so many people and caused so much damage. It caught him off guard. What was he doing here? Why did he decide to take justice into his own hands? This was brutal. There was a difference between an execution, ordered by law, carried out after a trial, and slitting a throat in the middle of the night. </p><p>"Jesus christ pull yourself together! He's killed you twice. Twice!" Quackity mumbled under his breath. "He destroyed a country. He's a wanted criminal." He gripped the blade tighter. He was right there. Right in front of him. Within arm's reach. Why couldn't he move? He stared at the peaceful face under him. His hair looked soft. This was a dumb idea anyways. There was no way it would work, even if he could bring himself to go through with it. Techno would just respawn and kill him a third time. One life for his three. It would be his final life too. He would be gone. A ghost, haunting the world he once controlled. Cursed to forget his life like Wilbur, or have to wait to be brought back to life like Schlatt. But he had to. He couldn't let the man before him live after everything he'd done. Was it worth it to kill him in such a manner in exchange for his last life? He could feel tears welling in his eyes. He wouldn't cry. He couldn't. He felt a tear roll down his cheek, hot. It burned his face more than the cold ever could. Not right now. There would be time for crying later, dead or alive. He sniffled and wiped the single tear away with the hand not holding the knife.</p><p>Technoblade cracked open an eye. He didn't say anything at first, just watched. Quackity caught his gaze. He looked almost bored. Like he wasn't at all surprised by this turn of events. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was expecting this, for Quackity to seek his own revenge. </p><p>"Well, go on." He said, almost annoyed.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Kill me. That's why you're here aren't you? To kill me?"</p><p>"I- Yeah. I am." </p><p>"Right. So why won't you? I'm right here. You have the knife. It would be so easy." Both eyes were open now, but he made no attempt to sit up. "It's want you want, isn't it? For me to die at your hands?"</p><p>"I don't know."</p><p>"Yes you do. If you wanted it you would've done something about it by now." He closed his eyes again and shifted, getting comfortable.</p><p>"I still could."</p><p>"You won't, though." </p><p>Quackity sighed in exasperation. How could a guy be this nonchalant while his life was under threat? Although, maybe he didn't see Quackity as a threat. What did Technoblade know about him that he didn't? He was capable of murder. Just as capable as Technoblade! In fact, some would argue he was a bigger threat than Techno. He had more allies! He had multiple countries behind him! What did Techno have? More gear? Quackity took his gear when he was arrested. More strength? More tactical prowess? More-</p><p>"Can you leave now? I have a busy day tomorrow, and the crying isn't helping me fall asleep."</p><p>"I'm not crying!"</p><p>"If you're gonna monologue can you at least do it out loud? You're just standing next to my bed thinking so hard I can almost hear the two braincells you have rubbing together."</p><p>"Jesus Christ dude! I have the knife right now! You do not hold any power in this situation!"</p><p>Technoblade sat up suddenly. Quackity flinched. </p><p>"It would appear I have at least a little power."  </p><p>"Fuck off. I'm going to kill you. If not tonight, then later. I have countries to look out for. You pose a threat."</p><p>"Someday you'll realize that I'm right. That all of your problems are caused by government. That the real threat wasn't me, but your institutions."</p><p>"I don't think I will." Quackity tightened the grip on the knife. He didn't realize how much he'd let his guard down. He felt like he was swaying back and forth, unsure if he was lightheaded from the sleep deprivation or the stress.</p><p>"If you're gonna be here a while, do you mind if I make some tea?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Technoblade stared at him blankly for a while and got out of bed. Quackity took a step back. He went down the ladder. Quackity put the knife between his teeth and cautiously followed him down, looking over his shoulder from time to time to make sure he wasn't about to get attacked. </p><p>He came downstairs to Techno filling a copper kettle with water. The whole situation was bizarre — he was supposed to kill Technoblade, not watch as he put a kettle on. His back was turned, he could still kill him. He was still standing there completely defenseless. It was intriguing though, that he seemed so calm.</p><p>"Why are you so unintimidated by me?"</p><p>Technoblade snorted. "Why would I be intimidated?"</p><p>"I came into your house, in the middle of the night, to kill you."</p><p>"But you didn't. You didn't even come close. You just stood and internally monologued. You've had so many opportunities. You could do it right now. But you haven't. And you won't."</p><p>Quackity sighed. He sat down at the tiny kitchen table and buried his face in his hands. "What's wrong with me?" He asked through muffled hands.</p><p>"Well for starters you thought it would be a good idea to kill me in my sleep. I've already told you Quackity, you can't kill me."</p><p>"Fuck you."</p><p>The kettle started whistling. "Do you want some tea?"</p><p>Quackity looked up. Genuinely, what the fuck. </p><p>"No I do not want some tea! I shouldn't even be here. You could poison it. Why the <em>fuck</em> would I want some tea. There is no universe, no- no sequence of events that could've possibly occurred, where I would accept tea from you."</p><p>"Alright."</p><p>Techno poured the hot water into a mug with a tea bag Quackity couldn't quite read the label of. It was quiet. It was almost peaceful. The fire, the tea, the snow outside, the distant mooing. He surveyed the scene around him. It was a nice house. Cozy. Surprisingly well decorated for someone like Technoblade. He narrowly avoided direct eye contact with the enderman.</p><p>"What's the deal with the enderman?"</p><p>"Oh Edward? That's my roomate." </p><p>"You're roomates with an enderman?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Does- does he pay rent?"</p><p>Technoblade laughed. "Not at the moment, but I guess I could start charging him."</p><p>"What kind of rent would an enderman pay? Not pearls right because thats like from their dead bodies? Grass blocks? What do enderman even have?"</p><p>"I'll be honest, I am not well versed in the types of enderman currency." Technoblade sat down at the table with his tea.</p><p>"What kind of tea is that?"</p><p>"Sleepytime" He deadpanned, slowly turning his head to stare at Quackity.</p><p>Quackity snorted. "I can leave! Jeez. All you had to do was ask."</p><p>"I'm pretty sure I already did."</p><p>"mmm I don't think so. I would've remembered if you did."</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>Technoblade looked out the window. Quackity followed his gaze. </p><p>"It's really coming down out there huh."</p><p>"Suppose so."</p><p>They sat there in silence for a while, Technoblade sipping his tea. It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, but Quackity quickly became restless without a constant stream of stimulus.</p><p>"So." Technoblade turned to look at him. "You come here often?"</p><p>"To my house? Yes."</p><p>"Makes sense." Quackity drummed on the table. "I should probably get going."</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>Quackity looked around awkwardly. "Do you know which way L'Manberg is?"</p><p>"You don't? How did you get here?" </p><p>"I followed the footsteps we left in the snow." He admitted, embarrassed. "That's not as much as an option now."</p><p>Technoblade snorted. "What if it snowed between now and two days ago?"</p><p>"It started snowing when I was like halfway here and I had to wander for a while. I didn't really have a backup plan. I don't know man I was angry! You killed me!"</p><p>"Can you even make it back? The snow is getting pretty deep."</p><p>"Well I don't know, I haven't exactly checked!"</p><p>"And to think, If you had killed me successfully you would've gotten lost in the snow and frozen to death."</p><p>Quackity glared at Techno. "I could've killed you. And I would get home fine. I could still kill you and I'd still make it home!" He got up and opened the front door. It looked like there were maybe five inches of snow on the ground. Why did it snow so aggressively here? It was still coming down. He took a deep breath and marched outside. He could feel Techno rolling his eyes as he closed the door. Fuck was it cold. He could do this! It was just a few miles walk in the freezing cold. No problem. He shivered. <em>fuck</em>. What was the alternative? Staying with the man he just tried to kill minutes before? Was it minutes? There's no way it would snow this much in a few minutes. It was still dark outside, but he could see the very beginnings of light on the horizon. East. What direction was L'Manberg? At least vaguely in the direction of the turtle farm. If he went far enough in that direction he would probably find something familiar. Fuck it was cold. Not just cold but a cold he could feel in his bones. The door opened behind him.</p><p>"How long do you think you're gonna stand on my porch?"</p><p>"Until I feel ready."</p><p>"This seems like a reoccurring problem for you. Anything I can do to motivate you? Vague threats?"</p><p>"I think I'm good. I just have to figure out where to go and how to not freeze to death."</p><p>"Good luck." The door closed.</p><p>
  <span>Fuck it was so much warmer inside. It wasn't snowing inside! There was heat and tea and a bed! There was no way would he go back in though. How awkward would that be? This situation was bad enough as it was. He set out into the snow. It was so much harder to walk now. He really was not dressed for this. He had opted for all black, sleek and stealthy so he wouldn't be caught in his mission. This ensemble did not, unfortunately, include snow pants or a massive jacket. If his toes froze off he would blame Technoblade. It honestly was his fault for being such a cute sleeper. Cute? Jesus he really was sleep deprived. So so tired. Why couldn't he just swallow his pride and go back inside? No. He wouldn't. He could make it. He was starting to lose his grip on reality. The world was swirling around him. It was so bright outside. He squinted, trying to make out where he was in this endless void of white. He was a third of the way to the turtle farm. Almost home! Almost in bed. Bed. Fuck. He slapped himself a little in an attempt to wake himself up but to no avail. He could feel his knees giving out. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sun. Not that much further. Almost there. He just had to go a little further and he would be free from this icy hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes shouldn’t burn this much. How long had he been walking? His knees felt weak, like he was trying to support his torso on wet noodles. The sun was in his eyes now, just over the horizon. He was growing quickly accustomed to the lack of feeling in his toes. He was so cold the feeling cycled back to warm again. He needed to take off his jacket, he was sweating so much. He tried to strip down, but he could barely control his arms. He got stuck with his jacket sleeves on his elbows, arms stretched behind him in an awkward display of flexibility. He sat down, trying to use the ground as leverage to pull the jacket off. He could feel his brain working slower, trying to figure out how to free himself from the oppressive clothing. He collapsed, breathless, into the snow, the jacket finally off. He was so, so tired. He should just lay here for a while, and resume his trek later. That sounded nice. Just a short break. For a little while. The snow felt nice against his bare arms, cooling them down. His t-shirt was getting wet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kicked off his shoes. His toes felt so uncomfortable in them, he needed to stretch them out. He dug them into the snow. It didn’t feel much like anything. It was a weird texture though, crunchy and soft at the same time. He crawled his way over to a nearby snow drift. What would it feel like to be inside? Fully covered in that weird, crunchy-comfy feeling? God he was overheating. He shimmied out of his pants with all the grace of a  three legged dog with rheumatoid arthritis and burrowed into the snow. His eyelids were so heavy. Maybe he would just rest here a while. The world darkened around him. He could feel his grip on reality loosening, bright colors flashing under his eyelids, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just so tired.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Redone! Any constructive criticism? Insults? Deep reads of my character? comment em i wanna know! Also I am so trash at spotting typos and that is only magnified by the sleep deprivation I am currently experiencing so point those out too pls.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Frostbite and Bright White</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>bitches be like: em dash? put an em dash maybe? lets add more sentences with em dashes. </p><p>I really really tried to hold back guys but the em dashes.... they call to me.....</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did he let him leave? Why did he push him away? Why did he make a habit of being so icy, so off putting that everyone left him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a fucking whiteout. The snow was so thick, so furious it reduced the world to a blinding, angry white. He had had to put on sunglasses to shield his eyes, the snow unbearably bright. He had long since gotten used to the cold, living in Antarctica tended to do that, but whiteouts were different. It wasn’t the wet chill of snow on your hair and cold numbing your fingertips, it was insurmountable terror. It was not knowing where you were. It was stumbling through a white void, wind whipping your face, making your skin sting. It was a feeling of existential dread — lost, engulfed in pain, both incredibly small in an endless stretch of nothingness and so incredibly large, the only thing around, a lone tower standing in a desolated city. It was the knowledge that you were completely alone. That if you died, no one would find you until the snow melted. He would find Quackity though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Its so bright</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where are we going? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technosnow</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He had had some foresight and brought a compass with him so he would be able to return home, but it would be no help in finding Quackity. He could be anywhere. He could’ve made it out, and Techno would wander around searching until he froze to death. He would deserve it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did he let him </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He could feet the knot of guilt in his stomach, weighing him down, making him nauseous. Sure, he had brutally murdered the man twice, but that didn’t mean that he had to let Quackity fucking freeze to death trying to leave his home in a blizzard. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You missed snow!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t see anything.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where’d Big Q go?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t make anything out, not even the horizon. Quackity could be anywhere. Surely he had headed vaguely in the right direction, right? Although he easily could’ve gotten lost and gone off in any old direction once the house was out of view. He tried to remember the route the butcher army had taken when they approached. They had come from the forest, hadn’t they? He would head into the woods then, and walk back towards his house over and over, covering as much area as possible before his legs gave out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>&lt;&gt;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity had been gone half an hour when the guilt began to consume Technobalde. He was laying in bed, sheets thrown off, staring at the ceiling. He went over their interactions over and over again in his mind. The poor guy. He had come to his house in the middle of the night, trying to kill him, only succeeding in getting mocked by his target. And then he stormed off into the falling snow, and Techno let him go. He let him go, knowing full well how hard the snow was coming down, that he didn’t know the way home. He let him go, when it would’ve been so easy to make him stay. He didn’t pose a threat, unless he was suddenly able to overcome his inhibitions and plunge his knife into Technoblade, but that was highly improbable. God, he was going to freeze to death out there because he couldn’t manage to be an accommodating host. The snow was coming down much harder outside, it looked like he might get snowed in. If he didn’t leave soon to find Quackity, he might not be able to until the snow dissipated. He would be stranded out there in the heavy snow, either dying or nearly dying, waiting to be found. There was a difference between killing a political figurehead in the midst of battle for the purpose of furthering a cause and allowing someone to suffer, possibly for days or weeks, alone and without any food. Would he be expecting someone to come and rescue him? Would he wait it out, trying to survive until someone noticed him, or would he abandon all hope? Would he stop trying to take care of himself, allow himself to succumb to the cold, because a quick death would be better than a long one?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved his feet into his boots, put on a jacket, and marched dutifully outside. He wouldn’t let him die. Not like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>&lt;&gt;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been walking through the snow for what felt like hours. He couldn’t make out the sun, there was no way to tell how long he had been walking his path, tracing his way to the forest and back. He went far enough over each time that there was only a slight overlap in what he saw between runs. He still saw no signs of life, heard nothing besides the voices. He had tried to listen to them at first, knowing they could pick up on things he might miss, but they could sense his panic. They picked on him mercilessly at first, telling him his search was hopeless, that he would fail. Some of them realized he wouldn’t stop, and moved on to talk about other things. Others still decided to trick him, telling him false information and making him stray from his path. They fractured more, making it impossible to understand what they were saying. They talked at the same time saying completely different things, becoming a constant buzzing noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing. He could feel the sweat accumulating under his clothes, his hair was sticking to his forehead. It felt hopeless. He could’ve passed him already without noticing. He could be dead already. He could-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a jacket, lightly covered in snow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rushed over, legs weak from all the walking and pulled at it. It flew out of the snow easily with his effort, not attached to anything. Fuck. It was a common symptom of hypothermia – becoming warm, removing your clothing to avoid overheating, allowing the cold to kill you faster. It often came before death. He dug through the snow around where the jacket had been, searching for either the man or a trail of clothing. A few feet away were some boots, socks thrown off haphazardly. And nearby, a pair of pants half stuck in a snow drift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dug through the snow drift frantically, sweeping the snow off with his arms to get to the middle as fast as possible. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, making him move faster, with more purpose. He plunged his hand inside and hit something hard. He grasped it and used as much power as he could to yank it through the snow. It was a bare leg, almost as cold as the snow around it. He quickly dug his hands back through the snow, trying to excavate the unconscious man. He got half of his body unburied before he could confidently lift him out of the packed in snow. His skin was bright red, looking almost raw. He was nude except for a soaked t-shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God damn it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Quackity?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Uh oh</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pogn’t</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The wet clothing had to be removed. Techno pulled the shirt over his head, careful not to jostle him too much. He nervously extended his fingers to Quackity’s neck. He felt a pulse, albeit a weak, slow one. He looked awful — his hair was full of snow, frozen to his scalp, his eyelashes were icy, like tears had hardened as they left his eyes. His body was painted red, blue at the edges. He needed to get him into the house as fast as possible. Techno pondered for a minute, eventually unzipping his jacket. He picked the smaller man up, and pulled him flush against his chest, face to face. Luckily the jacket was big enough that he could fit both of their torsos inside. He leaned Quackity’s head into his neck as gently as possible, and wrapped his legs around his hips. He dug in his pockets for the compass, leaning awkwardly to support the newly added weight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What to do about the legs? His pants were covered in snow, and his boots were soaking wet. He should’ve brought something else with him, he should’ve known that he would need more warmth. The best he could do was support Quackity as high as possible, pulling his legs up under the jacket. He unbuckled his belt, wrapping it around his ankles, firmly securing them behind his back. He had to make it home as soon as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kinky</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hurry hurry hurry!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technobelt</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The walk home was slow, he constantly had to adjust his grip to keep the smaller from sliding down his body. He eventually settled with one arm under the man's ass, the other digging into his thigh, hoisting it up to keep his legs under the warmth of the jacket. He could feel light breaths on his collarbone, a steady reminder that he was still alive. At least Quackity was still asleep. Techno reckoned he wouldn’t react kindly to being manhandled like this, completely nude, pressed against his body. He would resist, kicking away from him, preferring death to touching him. But for now, for a short time only, he was still. It felt wrong, to enjoy the pliancy when it had been brought about in such a way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel their heartbeats syncing up, his breaths becoming less shallow, like Techno’s body heat was reviving him. He still couldn’t see anything, marching through the snow in the direction of his house, unsure how far away it was. He could feel Quackity shifting with each of his steps, creating an unfortunate amount of friction on his nether region. The movement, the breath tickling his skin, the face pressing into his neck, and the feeling of skin on skin were a dangerous combination. He could feel his dick twitching, slowly coming to life under the layers of oppressive clothing. It was humiliating. He was carrying the unconscious body of his attempted murderer, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the time to get a hard on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something alluring about it though, him being so reliant on Techno. Needing him to survive. So weak, unable to move. He deepened his grip, trying to snap himself out of his train of thought, only succeeding in making the man in his arms twitch. So fragile. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Technolost</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is Big Q gonna be ok?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>E</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Quackity’s head move, nuzzling closer into his neck. Fuck. Was he waking up? How on Earth could he explain the current predicament? ‘Oh sorry, you looked cold so I stripped you down, tied you onto my body, grabbed your ass, and got a boner. It just felt right in the moment!’ He was really and truly fucked. The idea of getting caught, the humiliation and the guilt of it all made his heart skip a beat. What was wrong with him? He had some things to work through later on. Luckily, he didn’t feel any further movement from Quackity. He could vaguely make out the shape of his house in the distance, thanking every deity he could think of that he could get the man off his chest before something happened that would haunt him to his grave. He quickened his pace, careful not to rouse the man in his jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swung the door open, and stepped inside, stomping the snow off his shoes at the mat. He moved over to the fireplace quickly, kneeling so Quackity hovered over the ground. He unzipped the jacket, carefully leaning the smaller man onto the wooden floor. When he was all the way down, Techno leaned over him, trying to unbuckle the legs wrapped around his waist. The position made his breath hitch. Fuck, he needed to get out of there, and fast. His hands fumbled with the buckle, scrambling to make it come undone. The man below him lolled his head, arms shifting to rest against Techno’s thighs. He could feel himself getting harder. He panicked, hands scrambling, finally letting his ankles free. He backed away as fast as possible. He couldn’t just leave him like that, he needed more warmth. Hypothermia was no joke, especially when you had been out in the cold for so long. He grabbed the blankets off his bed, placing them to the side of Quackity and rolling him onto them, wrapping the comforter firmly around the man. He looked slightly less blue at his extremities, but he still looked miserable. He scooched him closer to the fire and sat back, watching to make sure he wasn’t uncomfortable. He shifted slightly in the wrap, bringing his hands up to rest near his head. He looked tiny. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Awwwwww</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>E</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lmaoooooo Technohorny</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat there for a while, willing his erection to dissipate. He would absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> act on the situation in his pants, thank you very much. Instead, he got up to add logs to the fire. He could feel the adrenaline draining from his system, leaving him exhausted and empty. He should go to sleep, but he had to monitor Quackity’s breathing to ensure he didn’t die in his sleep. He grabbed a pillow and laid on the ground, facing Quackity. He watched the blankets rise and fall, rise and fall. It was a matter of waiting now, until something went terribly wrong or he woke up. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this took me so long, I've been playing an unimaginable amount of Friday Night Funkin. Its almost a full time job at this point. I told myself I would stop when I could play through the whole thing on hard mode so here I am, a week later. smh. Does it come across that I just listened to the backwards part of The Mind Electric on loop while I wrote this? What a bop.<br/>Anyways, roast e in the comments please ya'll are too nice its getting to my head. Deflate my ego at once!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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